


race makes a Mistake

by moldymilk



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Weed Brownies, mhmmm i can't think of more tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:21:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moldymilk/pseuds/moldymilk
Summary: prompt: how about 'You said you made "brownies" for my birthday and now we're high as a fucking kite' with Ralbert or Sprace :))





	race makes a Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> i've never been high before so this was Fun to research

“Happy birthday, Alb!” Race loudly announced, waking Albert up. He glared at his enthusiastic roommate, reaching for his phone to check the time.

 

“Ant, it’s fucking eight thirty. I don’t want to know why you’re awake and I would very much like to not be awake,” Albert complained, his voice muffled by his pillow. 

 

“But, Al,” Race whined, drawing out the a, “it’s your birthday.” he dramatically ripped the covers off of Albert, who shivered in response.

 

“My birthday doesn’t mean shit to me. Time is a concept and I had a rough childhood. Now give me back my blanket or I’ll rip your nips off,” Albert rambled, still half asleep. 

 

“I made brownies,” Race said, Albert instantly raising his head.

 

“Brownies?”

 

“Yeah, but they’re for later. But it’s time to wake up, ‘cause I’ve been up since six and I’m bored,” Race responded, dumping Albert’s blankets at the foot of his bed. 

 

“You wound me, Racetrack Higgins,” he complained, his face flopping back into his pillow. 

 

“Yeah, but you love me,” Race replied with a smirk. A faint blush spread across Albert’s cheeks, but it was hidden by the pillow. 

 

“I’ll love you more if you let me have fifty two more minutes to sleep,” Albert countered, rolling over and throwing an arm over his face. 

 

“Only ‘cause it’s your birthday,” Race winked, leaving the room. Albert didn’t sleep, instead wondering what surprises Race had in store for the rest of the day. 

-

“Shit, Race, you didn’t have to do this for me,” Albert said upon walking into the living room. It was actually clean, for once, and there were a few decorations on the walls. A small stack of presents sat on the kitchen counter, next to a pan of brownies.

 

“You’ve done more for me, Albie. It’s the least I could do for my best friend,” Race shrugged, washing dishes. “The gang and I know you don’t like celebratin’ so we figured we’d open gifts just the two of us, or you can do it alone if you want.” 

 

“Eh, we can do gifts later. Right now I just want to chill and have some of the brownies,” Albert suggested, flopping on the couch. 

 

“I swear, you’re only friends with me for the food,” Race laughed.

 

“That’s only half true. I would kill a man for your brownies, though,” Albert joked, “Scratch that, I would marry a pan of your brownies.”

 

“Or you could marry me for tax benefits and the brownies,” Race suggested, trying to hide the blush on his face. 

 

“Sorry Higgins, but you gotta at least take me out to dinner once before we get married,” Albert didn’t comprehend the words until they came out, trying to not blush furiously. Race brought him about half of the pan on a plate, eating a smaller piece himself. The pair sat in silence, eating and watching tv, before Albert began to feel a little out of it.

 

“Hey Race?” he asked through a mouthful of brownie.

 

“Yeah?” Race responded.

 

“What’s in the brownies?” Albert raised an eyebrow and Race had a mini epiphany.

 

“I may have, uh, shit, there’s weed. In the brownies. And I forgot to tell you. Sorry, Alb,” Race said guiltily, turning red slightly. 

 

“Thanks, shitass. I’m gonna sleep it off,” Albert half deadpanned and half joked, walking back into his bedroom.

-

About five hours later, Albert’s door opened and he emerged, slightly clumsier than normal. Race looked up, feeling the effects of the brownies, just in time for Albert to throw himself across his lap dramatically. 

 

“Hey, Racie,” Albert giggled, poking him in the nose, which Race reciprocated.

 

“Hey, Albie,” Race mimicked, failing to notice the blush that was spreading across both of their cheeks. Albert’s face suddenly shifted and sat up, still on Race’s lap. Race threw a protective arm around his back, so he wouldn’t fall over, which Albert took as an opportunity to throw his arms around Race’s neck. 

 

“I never noticed that you have freckles. Why do you have freckles?” Albert mumbled, cautiously touching Race’s freckles with one finger. 

 

“Why is your hair so red?” Race countered, running his free hand through Albert’s hair, who leaned into the touch, and Race could’ve sworn he purred. 

 

“More pheomelanin than eumelanin. Recessive genes. Sciencey shit,” Albert murmured, his face inching closer to Race’s.

 

“Why is your face so close to mine?” Race questioned. 

 

“So I can do this,” Albert answered, closing the gap between their lips. 

-

Race awoke, five hours later, with his head laying on Albert’s chest. They had somehow moved from the couch to Albert’s bed, and lost most of their clothes in the process. Albert had an arm wrapped tightly around Race, who had an arm thrown across his waist. Not the best position to be in with your best friend if you have a crush on said friend. 

 

“Hey, Alb?” Race whispered. Albert didn’t respond, so he tried again. “Albert?”

 

“Hm?” Albert hummed, his grip on Race tightening. 

 

“Albert, you gotta let me go,” Race pleaded to no avail.

 

“Don’t wanna,” Albert mumbled, his eyes still closed. A few foggy memories drifted back to them, ones of hands in hair and lips connected. 

 

“Please?” Race wiggled, Albert loosening his arms slightly. 

 

“Five more minutes,” he whispered.

 

“No, Alb,” Race said, managing to wrench his way out of Albert’s grasp and out of the bed, leaving the room and walking towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, Albert emerged from the bedroom, his sleepy state disrupted by lack of another person. 

-

Albert sat on the couch, more uptight than usual, trying not to replay what he had done with Race in his mind, but ultimately failing. He noted that Race’s shower was stretching longer than usual, meaning that Race was thinking about something. When Race came out of his room after getting dressed, Albert pulled him onto the couch to have a talk.

 

“Racer? Can we talk?” He asked, Race cautiously sitting down, being careful to leave a distance between himself and the other boy. 

 

“About?” Race replied, his practiced poker face hiding his anxiety. 

 

“Do you remember much from earlier today?” Albert questioned, failing to hide his anxiety. 

 

“I remember, uh, making out with you,” Race answered, his voice raising at the end, as if he was posing a question. 

 

“Did you like it- shit- I’m asking if you liked making out with me. Cause I did. Not making out with me, making out with you. Jesus  _ fucking  _ christ. Did you like it? It’s okay if you didn’t, we can just go back to our normal lives and eventually we’ll start to distance ourselves from each other ‘cause I ruined our friendship by kissing you impulsively and then I’ll have to move to Iceland because I won’t be able to handle the anxiety of that and then I’ll never talk to you or Jack or Spot or any of the guys ever again and I’ll just be a lonely little shit in my cave mountain ‘cause my fucking crush didn’t like me back and I don’t know how to deal with feelings,” Albert rambled, his mind going a million miles an hour as he ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly and bounced his leg. There were a few beats of silence as he stopped running his fingers through his hair, resorting instead to clasping them in front of his face and continuing to bounce his leg.

 

“Hey, Albie?” Race placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. When Albert didn’t look at him, he put a gentle hand on his chin, guiding Albert’s face to look at him. Albert’s leg stopped bouncing.

 

“Yeah?” he squeaked out, his face flushing. 

 

“Shut up,” Race smiled, pressing their lips together again. That kiss was calmer than the last, fueled by nerves and excitement rather than weed. When they pulled apart, both of them were gasping for air. 

 

“Does that mean you liked it?” Albert whispered.

 

“Yeah. Will you be my boyfriend?” Race responded, still breathless.

 

“Yeah.” 

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr @juliawritessometimes


End file.
